


Soup Du Jour

by swizzlesticks



Series: Be Gay, Do Crimes [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, God there's a lot going on in this fic, Kinda, Kinda?, M/M, Sickfic, Takes Place After The End Of S2, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Undercover, honestly people it's 98 percent fluff except Juno eats too much and then they talk about feelings, hurt-comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 15:29:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17789972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swizzlesticks/pseuds/swizzlesticks
Summary: Juno and Peter are working undercover as a fake-married couple on a heist. Things go a little sideways before they even spot their mark.





	Soup Du Jour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rabbitqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabbitqueen/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> See the end notes for some light trigger warnings.

Juno was only two steps into the restaurant, and he already hated everything about it. The glimmering crystal tables and chairs, the shimmering, translucent linens that emitted mood lighting and soft, ambient music. But the room’s “wow” factor was clearly intended to be the floor and ceiling, both of which were made entirely of aquariums where sharks and manta rays and glimmering schools of genetically enhanced fish swam. There were more fish than Juno had seen in his entire life, glowing softly at intervals and shifting colors. And they were just--swimming around above and below the entire room. 

It creeped him out. It made him a little motion sick, actually. And the ostentatious display of wealth irritated him, as ostentatious displays of wealth tended to. He didn’t realize that he’d paused by the doorway, looking the entire scene over with distaste, until he felt Peter Nureyev’s gentle hand on the small of his back.

“Something the matter, dear?”

Right, undercover. Undercover meant at least making an effort to look like you belonged.

“No, sorry, I was just…” Juno waved an arm at the room, his trailing silk sleeve making the motion look far more elegant and dramatic than his usual impatient gestures. He wondered if that was why Nureyev had picked this shirt for him. “Taking it in.”

He felt Nureyev’s low chuckle more than he heard it. “Well, Dove, you should have come to the hotel earlier! If you’re impressed by these aquariums, you should wait until you see our room.”

That sounded bad. Juno had a feeling that meant their room was just like this. He wondered if he could convince Nureyev to let him cover the ceiling with spare blankets. 

“Mr. Vale? Ah, I see your husband has arrived. Right this way, please…”

Juno let Nureyev steer him, following the host to a table in the very center of the room, where the vertigo of walking on clear plastic over seemingly empty space was definitely the worst. And, according to what they’d scoped out on the way here, being put in the center of the room was a bad thing anyway: in Venusian culture, people who weren’t to be trusted were kept to the center of rooms in social situations, so that they could be observed. The very middle table in the room was...a bad place to be, if you were a pair of intergalactic thieves. 

A shark swam past Juno’s foot as he sat down, and he flinched.

“Is everything alright?” The waiter had flawlessly replaced the host by their table, and was watching Juno with an expression of slight confusion.

“Oh, fine!” Juno told him brightly, although his voice cracked. “I’m just terrified of heights, that’s all.”

“Our apologies.” The waiter said, and he did sound apologetic, but he also moved right on. “May I take your drink order?”

Juno let Nureyev handle the drink order. As aliases went, Juno liked Indigo and Dove Vale a lot better than he did Duke and Dahlia Rose. But Indigo Vale had very expensive taste, and Juno almost flinched again when Nureyev ordered the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu. For a price like that, Juno could have paid rent on his apartment and the office. For five years. He also ordered a bottle of champagne, and that wasn’t even on the menu. Juno was afraid to ask what that cost.

“So, what are we celebrating?” He asked as the waiter walked away. 

“Whatever you’d like to, Dove darling.” Nureyev leaned his chin on his hand, no indication in his body language that he was anyone other than Indigo Vale, forgotten heir to a vast ring-mining empire. He looked relaxed here, he practically lounged on the table, but he had eyes only for Juno. “Is the floor really bothering you?”

“No, I break out in cold sweats every time I walk across a restaurant.” Juno snarked back at him, and Nureyev laughed one of his glorious tinkling laughs, and it was almost enough to distract Juno from the fact that a manta ray the size of a bus had just swam under them. He fixed his eyes on Nureyev, and pinned a smile on his face. “The ceiling’s not really helping.”

“We’ll make our dinner brief, then.” Nureyev said breezily. “I certainly wouldn’t want my husband feeling out of sorts at Venus’s most famous resort.”

But Juno knew they wouldn’t be making it brief. This was as much a stakeout as a dinner date. The man they were looking for, Bregara Vincent, likely wouldn’t come down for dinner until they were nearly done. Which was good, because while he was eating, they intended to rob him blind. Or, at least get Rita the information she needed to do it wirelessly once they’d gotten out in a few days. The Opal Resort was famous for its security and its luxury, so for safety’s sake, they couldn’t leave as soon as they completed the heist. The resort was also famous for keeping the secrets of the ultra-rich, secrets Juno suspected would make even Hyperion City’s corrupt elite blush. If Juno could, he would have burned the whole place to the ground, and he knew full well that Nureyev would have lit the match for him. Neither one of them wanted to be here. They were making the best of a bad situation as it was, there really wasn’t leeway in the plan for Juno to have a panic attack during dinner.

“We don’t have to rush,” he found himself saying instead, “the food here is legendary, we should enjoy it.”

Nureyev raised an eyebrow, and Juno didn’t let his face betray a thing. Nureyev wasn’t above putting Juno through some discomfort to complete a heist, or if it meant saving both of their lives, but he would never do it if he thought he didn’t have to. Or if he thought Juno couldn’t handle it.

So Juno kept smiling guilelessly at his ‘husband’ until Nureyev’s face finally broke into a fond smile, and he leaned forward, taking Juno’s hand in his own. “You spoil me, dear.”

“Isn’t that what we’re here for?” Juno barely caught himself, almost said ‘isn’t that what I’m here for,’ before realizing that maybe the two of them weren’t quite there in their reconciliation. Juno was trying to take it slow; he had been the one to run out last time, and he really didn’t want to make this worse than it already was, no matter how good Nureyev looked in his expensive suit. Nureyev had been shockingly forgiving about Juno abandoning him, and Juno didn’t trust that, and--well, wasn’t that the whole problem with him? Whole problem was probably too generous. It was one of many, many problems with him.

Of all of those issues, Juno had not expected his fear of heights to complicate matters during this heist. And yet there it was. He saw his own hand shaking as he reached for his water glass, and simply balled it into a fist and tucked it under the table with the other. It would be so much easier if the table and chairs weren’t transparent.

“We should talk about something, though.” He said, mildly enough, he thought, but the look that Indigo Vale gave him was all Peter Nureyev, searching and concerned, before the expression smoothed back out.

“I’d be more than happy to. Why don’t I explain to you how Rangian Street Poker is played?”

This had almost become a joke with the two of them. Nureyev had tried to explain the rules of Rangian Street Poker several times, and it was only a matter of time before Juno cut him off, insisting that those rules were ridiculous, and that couldn’t possibly be how it was played. Normally, this conversation involved Rita holding a stopwatch in the corner, trying to look inconspicuous and keeping a tally of how long it took Juno to have an outburst. Juno, for his part, still genuinely didn’t know if Nureyev was actually explaining the rules, or simply baiting him for amusement.

In this case, it was a welcome distraction. Nureyev had made it into the second hand and fourths when the waiter returned with their drinks, and he’d made it all the way to fourteenths and doubles when the first course arrived.

Juno had to make an effort not to make a face at the food that was placed in front of him. Soup. He hadn’t quite been able to stomach soup since the whole...Miasma thing. But he wasn’t Juno Steel, who had dug through the memories of a martian looking for answers and only found soup. He was Dove Vale, and so he picked his spoon up gamely, and looked across the table at Nureyev, who was staring into his bowl as though the soup had just personally offended him.

“Uh--N-honey?” Juno blinked at Nureyev, perplexed. What, is it poisoned? “Indigo?”

“You know, this restaurant has a fascinating history.” Nureyev told Juno, and his voice sounded enthusiastic, but he was still watching his bowl like it was a snake. “But I’ll spare you the quirks of Venusian cultural history.” He said, laughing at himself a bit. “What is interesting though, is that every meal consists of many courses of the same type of food.” He lifted his spoon, tipping some soup onto it, facing it away from him in a way Juno thought he’d once seen in a fancy dinner party on one of Rita’s streams. 

“So for instance one night they might serve many types of salad, another night the meals would consist entirely of fish dishes, or fruit, or--” And now he was really laughing, and Juno couldn’t tell if it was Peter Nureyev or Indigo Vale who was laughing, and that worried him-- “even dessert!” He let the soup fall from his spoon back into the dish. “Tonight, all of the courses will be some sort of soup. And in a traditional Venusian dining establishment such as this, there are at least twenty-four courses before the meal is done, all of which must be entirely finished, or it is a deep insult to our host--in this case, the owners of the resort.” He gave Juno a slightly bleak smile, and then Juno saw it, or--maybe.

It was Nureyev’s teeth. They were sharp, each one coming to a point rather than squaring off like normal teeth did. They were so sharp, that if he wanted to eat soup, it would be difficult for him not to slurp, and in a restaurant like this, a heist this tricky, where their cover was already on the line, according to the table seating...

Juno couldn’t help it. He snorted into laughter.

“I’m glad you find this funny, Dove darling.” Nureyev drawled, as though he hadn’t been laughing himself mere moments ago. “Perhaps I can request a straw.”

Juno stifled his laughter back into reasonable grounds, although his eyes were streaming slightly when he looked back up at Nureyev, and he had to resist the urge to wipe them on his sleeve. 

“Oh, wow, you--you really never eat soup?”

“Not when I can avoid it.” Nureyev told him grimly, and shot his dinner another poisonous glare. Juno dissolved once again into giggles, feeling like Rita, feeling almost hysterical, but across the table from him, Nureyev just sighed. “I can’t project crassness for an entire twenty-four courses, if we’re going to have a chance at pulling this off. You’re going to have to help.”

“Help? What the hell can I…” Juno trailed off, realizing what Nureyev meant. “God, that’s going to be a lot of soup.”

“Indeed.”

The rest of the meal was an exercise in barely-controlled inanity. The waiter would come to replace their bowls, they would both thank him, and then Juno would eat his soup as quickly as he could while still seeming casual. Across from him, Nureyev would sip daintily from his spoon as though he was drinking tea, and as soon as Juno finished, they would switch bowls with the subtlety only a master thief could manage. Nureyev settled into a detached sort of expression that was the closest thing to a scowl Juno had ever seen him wear, and ate a lot of bread, ripping into it with his teeth in a way Juno had never seen him do before, as though he wanted to prove a point. By the end of twenty-four courses, Juno was simply glad he himself had not combusted from the pressure of two enormous Venusian meals.

And, unfortunately, there had still been no sign of Bregara Vincent. Juno raised an eyebrow at Nureyev as the last dishes were cleared away, and Nureyev cleared his throat.

“Can you have the bill sent to our room? I’m afraid my husband is feeling a little out of sorts.”

That was...true, actually. Juno had eaten way too much, and without the distraction of keeping up their ruse, the floor was getting to him again. If he had been motion sick before, that was nothing to how he felt now as a school of shimmering fish undulated underneath their feet. He let Nureyev help him up and guide him gently to the door, and he exhaled shakily as soon as they were back in the hallway, where the floor was mercifully made of synthesized wood.

“Are you alright?” Nureyev murmured in his ear, linking arms with Juno so they could talk more easily. “You look positively green.”

“Thanks, N-Indigo. I appreciate the reminder.” Juno had very rarely had the experience of eating too much, and he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that this would be the only time he ever did it. “Hey, next time we sit down to a thirty course meal we have to finish, you can eat both portions, ok?”

“It was only twenty-four courses.” Nureyev corrected, although he sounded amused. “If it’s any consolation, I’m starving. Last time I ate was one of Rita’s sandwiches back on the ship.”

“Oh, good, that makes me feel so much better.” Juno told him sarcastically. “What about Bregara? He wasn’t there.”

“Yes, I noticed that.” Nureyev’s voice was troubled. “I’m concerned our cover may be under question, so for now, we’ll return to our room. Once you’re...feeling a bit better, we can re-evaluate.”

“Maybe you can order room service, if you’re so hungry.” Juno groused.

“No good, I’m afraid. It’ll simply be more soup. Unless you’d like more…”

“No.” Juno knew Nureyev was joking, but he said it too quickly anyway. “No more soup. Never again soup.”

Nureyev laughed, and it was a sound that didn’t even have a hint of Indigo Vale in it. Juno found himself relaxing despite himself. They should be being extra-careful with their cover, but he couldn’t help but find it a little reassuring when Nureyev let himself show through the alias. He leaned against Nureyev as they wound their way up to their room, and told himself he was doing it to help with the...married thing. He was going to get better at undercover work come hell or high water, and if that entailed hanging off Peter Nureyev’s arm like he was lovesick when in fact he was just...feeling literally sick, he was ok with that.

Or at least he was, until they got to their room. He managed to hold onto his dismay until the door was closed behind him, but then it exploded out of him.

“What the hell?”

“This is how all the rooms in the hotel are, Juno. The Opal Resort is very proud of their aquariums.”

The only opaque wall in the place was the one between them and the hallway. Coral reefs crawling with life surrounded the rest of the suite, giving them their privacy, but the water below them yawned away into what could have been forever, and the ceiling writhed with schools of fish, dolphins cutting holes that closed just as quickly behind them.

Juno stumbled to the bathroom just in time to be violently sick. He didn’t realize Nureyev had followed him until he felt the man tugging insistently on his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Juno groaned without lifting his head from the toilet.

“Your sleeves, Juno. This will be marginally less unpleasant if you keep those sleeves out of the toilet. Now come on…”

Reluctantly, Juno let Nureyev help him out of his shirt. He was sick a few more times after that, but in between, Nureyev let him lean back against him, sitting on the floor with him and stroking his hair. Which...helped, actually. Not that Juno was enjoying himself, being sick into a transparent toilet over a terrible expanse of emptiness below, but...it did help.

When he finally finished, Nureyev pulled him back against him once again, and Juno sagged against him.

“I’m sorry, Juno.” Nureyev said quietly, and Juno was startled when the man kissed his temple. “This could be going better, couldn’t it?”

Juno laughed a little. “You could say that.” He accepted the glass of water Nureyev offered him. As far as he could tell, it had just appeared in Nureyev’s hand, he didn’t think the man had gotten up for the past twenty minutes. “So, uh...how are you doing?”

“Well, I’m significantly less hungry, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Juno laughed again, but it turned into a cough, and he decided now would be a good time to rinse out his mouth. 

“So what’s the current plan?” He asked when he was done.

“Well, the first part of it…” Nureyev turned Juno to face him, looking at him critically for a moment. Juno felt a little self-conscious, knowing he must look like hell, but Nureyev seemed entirely unbothered. “May I?” He asked, reaching for Juno’s face, and for a second, Juno had no idea what he meant, but then Nureyev was taking off his eyepatch.

Juno very briefly thought about protesting, but Nureyev was already putting it back on, this time over Juno’s good eye. In a second, Juno’s view of the room, the whole suite, and the sickening walls was blocked out. It was more of a relief than he expected.

Nureyev helped him to his feet, and Juno stumbled a little bit, but the man didn’t let him fall. 

“This is weird.” Juno complained, as Nureyev led him forward very carefully. “What is this, a trust exercise?”

“And you’re passing with flying colors.” Came the answer, and Juno could hear the smile in Nureyev’s voice. “Careful…” He got Juno sitting again, this time it felt like on a bed. “You’re lucky I requested one of the high-midrange rooms rather than their most expensive rooms. Those have translucent blankets and the beds are simply waterbeds built into the floor. You can see right through them.”

Juno groaned. “Don’t tell me that.”

Nureyev laughed softly. “You can relax, detective. We have a mattress.” He helped Juno get under the blankets. “Stay there for a moment?”

“You know I’m not a detective anymore, right?” Juno asked. He could hear Nureyev moving around, opening closets and shifting things around. 

“Juno darling, just because you’ve changed sides of the law, doesn’t make you not a detective.” Nureyev sounded amused. “I think the coat I made you leave behind on the ship will speak to that.”

“Hey, I love that coat.” Juno protested, and he could hear Nureyev stifle a laugh. 

“That, my dear detective, is obvious. Now hold still a moment.” 

Juno felt a blanket land over his face, but it wasn’t there long. Very quickly, it seemed, Nureyev was rearranging all the blankets, and Juno was very tempted to lift the eyepatch and see what was going on, but...having just stopped being nauseous (mostly), he wasn’t especially excited by the potential of setting that off again.

“Hey, Nureyev? What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Came the smug answer, and Juno got another faceful of blanket.

Honestly, it didn’t take that long. There was a final rustle, and the mattress moved as Nureyev got onto it, and then the man’s voice came from somewhat closer than Juno had expected.

“Alright, detective, it should be safe to look.”

Gingerly, Juno lifted the eyepatch, shifting it back to where it belonged. He really didn’t know what he was expecting--had in fact been trying very hard not to suspect anything, because he had no idea what Nureyev was doing, and sometimes it seemed better that way. But this had never even crossed his mind.

“A blanket fort?” He asked, sure his surprise was more than obvious in his voice. “Where did master thief Peter Nureyev learn how to make a blanket fort?”

“Space travel is very boring, Juno.” Nureyev told him briskly. “You’d be amazed the hobbies you can develop when you travel. Ask me what I know about crochet sometime. Now come here.”

“What?” Juno heard his voice crack. Last time Peter Nureyev had told him to ‘come here’ had been the first time they kissed. Not that Juno thought about that much. Or at all. Ever.

Nureyev looked amused. The light in the blanket fort was dim, but some of the blankets were made of the same materials as the table linens in the restaurant, as were the pillowcases, so everything was lit from odd angles with a soft, warm glow that came from the fabric itself.

“You’ve been shivering since we got into the room, detective, and I used all of your blankets to block the view of the ceiling.”

“Yeah, that’d be the nausea-- you were the one who told me to take my shirt off!” Juno protested.

“Yes, and I’ve already set it to soak. It’ll be good as new tomorrow.” Nureyev simply looked at him patiently, and Juno realized he was still shivering. 

“But what about Bregara?” Juno asked. “We--don’t we need to…”

“We already agreed we’ll have to wait a bit to see what’s going on, and you’re not in any shape to go sneaking around the halls.” Nureyev told him. “And I can’t imagine you’ll let me do the most dangerous part of the heist on my own--”

“No,” Juno cut in, already vetoing that idea, and Nureyev kept going.

“So it would seem that we have some time to kill. And until you’re feeling better, it would seem that a nap would be the smartest way to pass that time, don’t you think?”

Juno grumbled. It just made Nureyev look at him more fondly. 

“Unless you have any better ideas?”

Juno did, actually. A lot of them involved kissing Peter Nureyev, but he had to admit that ten minutes after being sick might not be the best time to try instigating that. The caustic part of him, the part he was trying to work on, might bite off yeah, napping ALONE, just out of habit, but...sleeping with Peter Nureyev actually sounded...good. And not even in a euphemism way, just...sleeping.

Still, he found himself eyeing Nureyev suspiciously. Sure, they were fake-married, but they hadn’t actually...talked about what had happened back at that hotel room. It felt like a lifetime ago, now, but Juno didn’t want to hurt Nureyev any more than he already had. 

“Are you sure?” He finally asked, slowly, still hesitating. “I mean...that sounds good, but…?”

Nureyev smiled at him and reached for him, and Juno let Peter Nureyev pull him close. In the enclosed air of the blanket fort, the scent of the man’s cologne was enough to make Juno’s head spin, and he let his head rest against Nureyev’s chest, exhaling shakily when the man kissed the top of his head.

“Juno darling, I’ve always been sure. Are you?”

Juno closed his eye, face still against Nureyev’s chest. “I’m gonna mess up again.”

“That’s not the same question.” Nureyev pointed out softly. “You weren’t sure last time, I know that now.”

“But...what if knowing I’m gonna mess up again is why I’m not sure?” Juno asked, still refusing to look up at the man. 

For a moment Nureyev was silent, and Juno held his breath, afraid of what the man would say next.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?” Juno was so startled by the question that he opened his eye. “I mean, yeah, I think we’ve pretty much proven I’m an idiot for not trusting you earlier--”

“Shh.” Nureyev cut him off, and Juno stopped. “Do you trust us? As a team?”

“...Yeah?” Juno wasn’t sure where Nureyev was going with this.

“Then why should this be any different?” Nureyev rubbed Juno’s back gently. “We don’t have to talk about this now. But...I trust you, Juno. Yes, still.” He added before Juno could stop him with a protest. “And if we could put our minds to keeping each other safe from Miasma and manage to both survive... I don’t see how this can possibly be harder than that. We’ve done more difficult things, Juno. What are you so afraid of, that I’ll leave? You trusted me not to leave you alone there, didn’t you?” Slowly, Juno nodded. “So trust me when I say this: I’m not going to leave you, Juno. Not unless you want me to.” He kissed the top of Juno’s head again. “And if you don’t want this, you don’t have to leave in the middle of the night. I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want.”

“No.” Juno stumbled over the word, and Nureyev paused. “I don’t, I just--” He faltered. Why was this so hard? Why was it always so hard with Peter Nureyev? “I want you...to be...happy.” He finally said. “And I don’t know how big a part I can play in someone being happy, Nureyev, I’m not exactly a bundle of sunshine--”

“Juno, remember how you said you trusted me?”

“...Yeah.”

“Do you trust me when I say you make me happy? If I wanted a bundle of sunshine, I’d be trying to kiss your secretary.”

That mental image was enough to shake Juno right out of his self-pity. “Wait, what?”

Nureyev laughed. “I care for you, Juno. And I think we both know that’s not going to be one-hundred percent straightforward, but, when is anything? If you care for me too, it seems to me that we could vastly simplify both our lives by just...letting ourselves have this. Life is short, Juno. And I’ve seen you stand up to much scarier things than your own feelings. If you want to try this, I’m...willing to try again. Would you...want that?”

Juno was frozen against Nureyev's chest. Did he want to try again? He’d regretted walking out of that room the second he’d done it, but he had kept going. Why had he kept going? What was it in him that made him do things like that, why did he always ruin everything?

“I…” He croaked. “Would I want that? God, Nureyev, are you serious? I walked out on you and you’re gonna give me a second chance--do I want it--I mean yeah, it’s all I’ve wanted since…”

He was cut off by Nureyev’s lips on his own. The kiss wasn’t demanding, it wasn’t intended to shut him up, but Juno melted into it. He always melted into Nureyev’s kisses. He wasn’t sure it was possible not to. And as always, Nureyev seemed distressingly composed when he pulled back.

“Juno.” Nureyev’s thumb traced the line of Juno’s jaw, and Juno tipped his chin up, wishing Nureyev would kiss him again. “You don’t owe the world your misery. If you want this...you can have it. It really is that simple.” His eyes were serious as they searched Juno’s face. “Do you want this?”

“...Yes.” Juno told him, and his voice broke as it came out. And he knew he’d told Nureyev yes before, and then immediately stabbed the man in the back, but from the look on Nureyev’s face you’d never know it. The man’s thumb ran gently over Juno’s lips.

“Then let’s try this: why don’t we slow things down this time, and see where it takes us? There’s no need to rush into anything.” Nureyev kissed the top of Juno’s head again, and then pulled him closer, until Juno was curled against his chest. “You’re in control, Juno. I won’t make any more moves until you tell me you want me to. I just wanted to know where we stood.”

Juno hesitated. “Can you...kiss me again?”

He heard Nureyev’s laugh in his chest, and the man kissed the top of his head. “Of course, Juno.”

“That isn’t what I meant.” Juno complained. 

“I’ll kiss you more after you sleep, if you want. As much as you’d like.” Nureyev told him, rubbing his back again. “No offense, detective, but your breath at the moment is not quite up to your normal standards.”

Juno felt himself flush. “...Right.”

“I’m just glad you’re feeling better.”

For a moment they were both silent. Juno had been right, this was nice. Nureyev had given him his space, afterwards, that night in the hotel. And at the time, Juno had appreciated it. But he wondered what might be different if he had been this close, had been able to hear Peter Nureyev’s steady heartbeat and feel the man’s arms holding him close.

“Hey, Nureyev?”

“Yes, Juno?”

“Thanks.”

“...Of course, Juno.”

“Can you do me one more favor?”

Nureyev shifted slightly, and Juno had the sense the man was looking at him, although he couldn’t actually see that. “Yes?”

“Never mention what you said about Rita again, ok?”

Nureyev’s laugh was entirely for Juno, and when Juno did finally fall asleep, it was still with a slight smile on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: non-graphic descriptions of being sick (if you're emetophobic this means you), and fear of heights, motion sickness, and not really disordered eating but kind of coincidentally parallel to disordered eating? Nothing's graphic, you guys, I just didn't want to take anyone off-guard.


End file.
